Shall We Dance?
by EmpressVL
Summary: It's New Year's Eve 1914, and Harry Selfridge is throwing a gala for his staff. Josie Mardle chooses to bring her Belgian lodger as her escort. Will her colleagues accept the two as a couple, or will the gossip prove too much for their relationship to withstand?


Josie Mardle felt like a girl of seventeen as she stood before her mirror and adjusted her new hat. It was hardly a hat in the sense of an item to protect the head, but instead a daring confection of feathers and ribbon, with a flirtatious half veil to finish it. She had sold many such hats to her Selfridge ladies over the years, but had never owned one herself, eschewing them as far too frivolous (and expensive) for a working woman like herself. Well, those dreary days had gone, hadn't they? Instead of the conservative greys and browns she had always chosen, tonight she wore a gown of deep blue velvet trimmed with matching blue silk ribbons and cream-colored lace. She tweaked the delicate headpiece a bit and laughed with delight at the result, fixing it into place with a few hairpins. Hat secured, she reached for her gloves – top of the line, the best the store sold – and turned toward the door, eager to see how her companions looked in their finery – and frankly, looking forward to the chance to show off a bit! She blushed at that thought, but she also had to admit its truth. She, Josie Mardle, the cast-off, the afterthought, the poor spinster, had come into her own at last. She couldn't wait for the evening to start!

Across the hall, Florian heard Josie's door open and sighed with relief. The final adjustments for his formal attire had defeated him, and he needed help. He answered her gentle knock by flinging the door open, but his invitation for her to enter died on his lips as he took in her appearance.

Smugly aware of his reaction, she cocked her head, causing one feather to wave coquettishly.

"How do I look?"

Florian took a deep breath, his heart pounding.

"Far too good for a simple man like me."

Her smile deepened.

"Nonsense! You flatter me."

"Never. I only tell the truth."

Dropping her gaze, she realized his waistcoat was askew and reached out to help.

"May I?"

He lowered his voice.

"You know you may touch me anywhere you wish, at any time you wish."

Pretending not to hear, she unbuttoned his waistcoat, then refastened it properly. Florian marveled at her deft touch. It did not seem to matter what she did – buttoning coats, arranging gloves, loving him – she did it with grace and care. She would have made a fine musician, he realized.

"There!" she said, bringing him out of his thoughts. "You look very handsome, my dear, as always." She paused, leaning forward confidentially. "You quite take my breath away at times!"

Florian felt his face grow hot. He desperately wished to kiss her, but knew she would not welcome it before the party. After, however…he had hopes!

"Let's get you into your jacket. Agnes will be waiting for us, and we mustn't keep her."

He shrugged into the jacket, enjoying the feel of her hands on him as she smoothed the garment over his chest and sides. She straightened his tie with a final flourish and stepped back to admire her handiwork, her eyes drifting from his polished shoes to his freshly washed and combed hair before settling on his brown eyes.

"Am I good?"

She nodded, setting her hat's tallest feather into motion.

"You look … perfect. Any woman would be proud to have you as an escort."

He gazed down at her, again wishing he could kiss her.

"But I would not escort just any woman. I want you on my arm, and no one else."

Agnes awaited them in the parlor. Clad in a gown of a deep, rich red, she looked utterly exquisite, Josie thought. What a shame Henri could not be here. She had her doubts about Agnes' plans to attend the New Year's gala with Victor, but the younger woman had insisted the two were simply good friends and would enjoy the evening together. In Josie's opinion, Victor still looked at Agnes like a starving dog eyeing a pork chop. She hoped Agnes knew what she was doing.

"You look perfectly lovely, my dear! That color suits you beautifully, doesn't it, Florian?"

"You look like the English rose," he said, hoping he had remembered the phrase correctly.

Agnes smiled at that, thinking how lucky Josie was that this particular Belgian refugee had shown up on their doorstep.

"Thank you, Florian. You look very handsome yourself."

He smiled but said nothing, instead glancing over at Josie.

"Does she not look enchanting?" he asked.

Agnes appraised her friend and nodded. Tonight, Josie had no worry lines on her face – indeed, she seemed to glow with health and happiness. Between her costume and her obvious enthusiasm about the evening, she appeared perhaps thirty.

"You look stunning, Josie. Every head will turn when you walk into that ballroom!"

Josie blushed with pleasure, hearing the sincerity in her friend's voice.

"I'm sure you're both exaggerating – and I hope you will not stop! I haven't been this excited about an evening since the benefit concert, I suppose."

"Only this time, you get to keep Florian to yourself."

"Well, I'm sure we will have to dance with other people, but … yes. Although I still have certain reservations about our attending openly together…"

"Josie," Florian said, hoping she didn't mean to list again all the reasons they should not go.

"Dearest Florian, I was simply going to say that I feel ready to shed my habits of secrecy and reserve for this evening. We are not a conventional pairing, to be sure, but as you so often have reminded me, there is nothing wrong or shameful in our feelings for one another and no reason whatsoever we should not enjoy an evening out. Even if Miss Hawkins is certain to make some tiresome remarks at our expense."

Florian regarded her fondly. Six weeks had passed since she had pleaded for him to stay with her, and that time had worked some deep changes in Josie – and himself, for that matter. Now that the possibility of rejection no longer hung in the air, both had relaxed, taking delight in each other, in the time they could spend together. Besides arranging a joyful Christmas celebration for the entire household, she had organized trips to museums and cathedrals and parks, eager to show him the highlights of London and to learn his thoughts about art, religion and culture before sharing her own.

Although his English remained too limited to convey some concepts, Agnes, who often accompanied them, had proven an unexpected help. He grinned, remembering how she had urged him to say his more complex ideas in French, which she would translate for Josie. Both had gawped at her.

"My dear, I had no idea you could speak French."

"I did just spend two years in Paris," Agnes had said, amused. "Hard not to pick up a few phrases."

"But why did you never say anything before now?"

"Florian needed to learn. When I complained in Paris about how no one would speak English to me, they told me that people needed a few weeks of complete immersion in a new language to learn it properly. When I said it felt like more like drowning than immersion, they laughed – but they still didn't speak anything but French around me for weeks. It was hard at the time, but I think now they were right."

After that, communication had become much easier for all of them. His English progressed under their friend's tutelage and Josie's French vocabulary expanded as she listened to them. Altogether, Florian thought, they had a most satisfactory domestic arrangement! However, he did feel sorry for Agnes with Henri away. Agnes needed someone to love now that her brother had returned to the front lines. Florian sighed. Next to Josie, Agnes was the nicest person he knew, and he wanted her to enjoy life as much as they did.

A flurry of motion brought him back to the present, and he stepped forward to help Josie with her coat before donning his own. Talking and laughing, the trio moved out into the evening, each filled with anticipation and hope for what might happen next.

The party had already begun by the time they arrived. Florian immediately assessed the quality of the orchestra – he couldn't help doing so, although he sometimes wished he could block out some of the inferior performances he had suffered through – and decided he approved.

"Agnes!"

Victor appeared out of the throng, beaming at the sight of his former fiancée. Although he contented himself with clasping her arm and patting her shoulder, Josie could tell Victor wanted a much more intimate greeting. Agnes responded by kissing him on the cheek and smiling up at him.

"It's good to see you," Agnes said. "You look wonderful."

"Next to you, I look like a slab of polenta wearing tails," Victor laughed. "Or maybe a sardine in a suit! I can't get over how lovely you look, Agnes. Like a precious ruby."

Oh dear, Josie thought, worried by the intensity of his gaze. She moved towards them, hoping to break the spell.

"Mr. Colleano, you're looking well this evening," she said, extending her hand.

"Miss Mardle! Good evening," he replied, wrenching his eyes from Agnes so as not to insult his former colleague. "And good evening to you, too, Mr. Dupont," he added, nodding in a friendly way.

Florian gave a slight bow. "Thank you. We were sorry you could not meet us at the house."

"Family matters," Victor said.

Florian inclined his head, accepting the non-explanation. "And please, call me Florian."

Victor reached out to shake Florian's hand. "Then call me Victor."

"If I may interrupt…" a familiar voice said, and both men turned their heads to see Mr. Grove, his wife two steps behind him.

"Mr. Grove! Good evening!" Victor said as Florian forced himself to smile.

"Mr. Colleano. M. Dupont," Mr. Grove said, turning back to his wife. "Doris, come meet someone. May I present M. Dupont?"

"Oh!" she said, recognizing him. "That violinist."

"Yes," Florian said, keeping the socially correct smile on his face. "I remember you from the benefit concert."

"You played so beautifully! Between you and the singer, it was all too marvelous, wasn't it, Roger? Of course, that dreadful scene with the police overshadowed the music, but I told Roger you were simply superb, didn't I, dear?"

His face unreadable, Mr. Grove looked down at his wife. Florian felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the large blond. To have traded a life with Josie for this featherhead!

"And how is the newest member of your family?" Florian asked. "Miss Mardle passed along the happy news of your son's birth."

"Getting bigger every day!" Mrs. Grove said before her husband could speak. "He's a perfect brute of a baby – he takes after his father that way!"

"Doris, I see some people we must greet. Come along."

"Lovely to meet you, M. Dupont!" the young woman said as her husband took her arm. "I hope we'll hear you play again!"

"It is always nice to play for an appreciative audience," he called back as they disappeared into the crowd. He looked down to find Josie by his side. Eyes sparkling with mischief, he bent down to her.

"Mr. Grove," Florian said in her ear, "is an imbecile."

Caught off guard, Josie laughed out loud and covered her mouth with one gloved hand.

"You mustn't say such things, Florian! Someone might hear."

"The truth shall set you free," he replied solemnly, sparking another laugh.

"Why, Miss Mardle, I didn't see you come in," said Kitty Hawkins, curled like a cobra around Mr. Edwards' arm.

"Hallo, Miss Hawkins," Josie said. "Mr. Edwards, how nice to see you!"

"You're looking extremely well tonight, Miss Mardle!" Mr. Edwards said, eyes lingering on her face before flicking down to her figure. "I don't believe I have ever seen you look lovelier!"

"Why, thank you very much!" Josie said, trying not to laugh. Both Florian and Kitty looked peeved at this show of attention. "May I present my escort, Mr. Florian Dupont?"

"Mr. Dupont, we are truly the luckiest men in this room!" Edwards said, extending his hand. "Without a doubt, the two most beautiful women at this shindig are on our arms!"

"I could not agree more!"

"I thought you were Miss Mardle's lodger?" Kitty put in. "A Belgian refugee?"

"That is correct," Florian said, realizing that Josie's description of this woman had erred on the side of kindness. "I came to England just a few months ago."

"You speak English ever so well, considering," Kitty said.

"Miss Mardle and Miss Towler have been very kind to me. They help me with my English each day. I speak and understand much more now than I did when I arrived."

"Yes, I'm sure they have little else to do with their spare time. But a _young_ man like you in their midst must…"

"Now, Kitty," Edwards said reprovingly.

"I'm glad to help Florian in any way I can," Josie said. "He has added so much to our home – music, laughter, and increasingly, good conversation! He even repairs leaky faucets. I hope he will stay with us for a long time."

"I cannot imagine wanting to leave," Florian said, taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze.

Kitty gasped, but her escort didn't notice the affectionate gesture.

"Would you be interested in talking to me for a human interest story for my paper?" Edwards asked, unable to quell his journalistic instincts a moment longer. "I know my readers would be very interested in your story."

"I will consider it," Florian said. "But I am not sure who would read such an article."

"Florian's story is terribly interesting," Josie said. "He's such a gifted musician, but works in a factory to support the war effort."

"That's exactly the sort of thing that would appeal to all sorts of people," Edwards said, already planning the article in his mind. "So many Belgians lost their homes. Telling your story would help people here understand what happened and show your people's commitment to helping England win this war."

"I will consider it," Florian said again.

Edwards fished a card from his jacket pocket and handed it over.

"Call on me soon, young man," he said. "England needs to hear your story!"

"I will," Florian said, somewhat dazed.

"Come, Frank," Kitty said, her patience obviously near its end. "I want champagne!"

"Must feed the kitty before she scratches," Edwards said, chuckling at his own joke. "Nice meeting you! And come see me, M. Dupont!"

Kitty gave them one final stare before taking Frank's arm and moving away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Josie take a deep breath, and turned to her.

"Well, that could have been worse," Josie said. "At least she didn't try to open your mouth and look at your teeth to see how young you actually are!"

He laughed.

"Your descriptions did not begin to do her justice. And you spend all day, every day, in the same room with her?"

"We do work at different counters,' she said. "That helps."

"Now that I have met her, I promise to rub your head each day when you get home. And perhaps your shoulders, too."

Josie couldn't help but laugh.

"That would be lovely!"

"Champagne sounds good," he said. "Shall we find some?"

"Excellent idea,' she agreed.

They had taken no more than twenty steps before they found themselves face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Selfridge.

"Miss Mardle!" Harry said. "How beautiful you look tonight! Please tell me that stunning ensemble came from our store."

"Of course, Mr. Selfridge! Mr. Thackeray himself assisted with my gown, and of course the hat and gloves came from Accessories."

"You're a splendid advertisement for the store," Mrs. Selfridge said with a warm smile. "And that shade of blue brings out the sparkle in your eyes. You really do look marvelous."

"Yes, we must release you from your counter duties and instead exhibit you throughout London as a shining example of what Selfridge's can do for a woman!" Mr. Selfridge teased. He turned to Florian and held out his hand. "I'm Harry Selfridge, young man. And you are…?"

"I'm so sorry – where are my manners?" Josie said, horrified at this gaffe. "Mr. Selfridge, may I present my escort, Mr. Florian Dupont?"

"Never mind, Miss Mardle, we hardly gave you an opportunity to say a word! Mr. Dupont, I'm delighted to meet you."

"Thank you, Mr. Selfridge," Florian said, awed. "The pleasure is mine."

Rose's eyes suddenly widened in recognition.

"Of course! You played the violin at the benefit concert." She paused, remembering what she could of the performance. "And you played just beautifully."

"Thank you, Mrs. Selfridge, for remembering me. It was a very … eventful evening."

"Where are you from?" Harry asked, trying to place the other man's accent.

"I am Belgian. A refugee. Miss Mardle very kindly took me in when the Belgian Relief Charity sent me to her home."

"That _was_ kind, and very generous, Miss Mardle. Everyone talks about helping the Belgians, but very few put their money where their mouth is. It makes me proud to know that about you."

"She has been a godsend to me," Florian said, looking down at her. "She is the kindest person I have ever met."

Harry's gaze sharpened as he regarded the two of them. He didn't miss much, Florian reckoned, and wondered if he had just said too much.

"Miss Mardle is one of the kindest people I know, too, and has a generous, giving spirit," Mr. Selfridge said thoughtfully, then looked right at Florian. "And she deserves all the happiness she can find."

"You're too kind," Josie muttered, her face uncomfortably warm at all this praise. "I'm sure anyone would have done the right thing."

"Be that as it may, I salute your kindness, Miss Mardle, and wish you all the blessings and happiness of the New Year," Harry said. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I'm due to speak in a few minutes and I want to get Rose settled at our table first."

"Of course," Josie said, relieved. "And a very happy New Year to you too!"

They watched the Selfridges inch through the crowd for a moment, then turned back to each other.

"A glass of anything would go down well right now," Josie remarked. "I'm parched!"

As if in response to her words, a waiter appeared with a tray of filled champagne glasses. Florian grabbed two, nodding his thanks to the man. Josie took a sip and sighed with pleasure as the bubbles danced on her tongue.

"We are a long way from tea in your drawing room," Florian observed.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear," Josie said. "I must confess, I enjoy having you by my side! I don't believe I've had such a handsome escort to a party since I was much younger than you."

"It is very interesting to see your world, to meet all these people I have only heard about. And I like to see you happy! It is a good evening."

She smiled into his eyes as if he were the only other person in the room.

"A very good evening indeed."

"Just look at the two of them!" Agnes heard Kitty exclaim from somewhere behind her. "Making such a spectacle of themselves. Why, she's old enough to be his mother!"

"Now, Kitty," she heard Frank Edwards say. "The age difference between you and me is probably greater than the difference between those two. He's twenty-eight or nine if he's a day, and she can't be more than forty at the outside."

"Stuff and nonsense! I'd put him at twenty-five, and she must be pushing fifty! It's scandalous!"

"Even if they were twenty years apart, what of it? No one blinks an eye if a man is that much older than the girl."

"Must I explain everything? It's perfectly proper for the man to be older and more established, so he can provide a good home for his wife and their children."

"But didn't you tell me Miss Mardle recently came into some money? If she does not need a husband to provide her with a home, why should she not look to a younger man?"

"Frank Edwards, you're being deliberately silly. It's just wrong. Anyone can see that."

They must have moved out of earshot, for Agnes heard nothing more. And seconds later, when Victor reappeared with two more glasses of champagne, she put the incident out of her mind altogether.

Two hours later, the speeches concluded and the excellent dinner reduced to scraps and crumbs, the orchestra struck up a lively tune. Florian turned to Josie, eyes sparkling.

"I have been waiting all night for this! May I have this dance?"

Smiling, Josie took his hand. "Of course! I'm passionately fond of dancing, although I hardly ever get the chance."

Florian filed that fact away as he led her to the floor. Taking her in his arms, he swung her expertly into the crowd

"I also love to dance," he said.

"I would think most musicians would."

"Not necessarily. Many musicians cannot dance at all! Some of us spend all our time playing so that others may dance."

She frowned a little at that.

"How sad."

"Perhaps, but we need not worry about that tonight, Josie. You and I are here now and we can dance until dawn if we wish."

"I'm not sure I have that sort of stamina anymore. But I do intend to dance until I cannot take another step without wincing!"

"I hope dancing with me will not cause you any pain at all!"

"Oh, no, you dance beautifully. It's the shoes that will do me in. They're new."

"Ah," he said. "Tell me when you need to sit down and we shall rest. And I will rub your poor tired feet when we get home."

"You'll quite spoil me, rubbing my feet and temples and shoulders!"

"I think you need to be spoiled, and I intend to spoil you thoroughly!"

"You shouldn't promise such things. I might hold you to them."

Enjoying the feel of her in his arms, Florian gazed into her eyes.

"I never make promises I do not intend to keep."

The song ended and they parted to applaud the orchestra. He quickly renewed his hold on her as the group began a waltz.

"My parents used to waltz," he said, surprised that the memory brought no pain. "We would tease them, and make kissing sounds if we were really naughty, and they would ignore us and keep dancing."

"You grew up in a happy home, it sounds."

"Yes. They were good people."

"I'm sorry they're gone."

"I am too. But, times change and people leave us, and if we are lucky, _le bon Dieu_ gives us new people to love." He gave her a little squeeze and held her closer. "I consider myself very, very lucky."

She half-smiled at that, and Florian bent his head to hers, wishing he could kiss her.

"I am the luckiest man in England to have you in my arms," he said in her ear.

"I'm the lucky one," she replied, her cheeks flushed. "Just when I thought I should never again have anyone to care for, you showed up on my doorstep!"

Heedless of the people around them, Florian closed the gap between their bodies. Through their clothing, he could feel her heart pounding at the same tempo as his own. He embraced her tightly as a surge of desire overtook him.

"Josie…"

He nearly cried out when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to find Victor and Agnes standing next to them.

"Mind if I cut in?" Victor said, giving Florian a warning look.

Frustrated, Florian sighed.

"Of course not," he said, relinquishing his hold on Josie and turning to Agnes as Victor twirled Josie into the fray. "Shall we?"

"You looked very intense there, my friend," she said in French. "People were staring."

"Let them stare!" he said passionately. "I want everyone to know."

"After that display, everyone does! But you must think of Josie's reputation. She must work with these people and command their respect. She cannot do that if people imagine her locked in an ardent embrace with her lodger every time they look at her."

Florian frustration dissipated somewhat as he considered this.

"You are wise, my friend."

"I know," she said, grinning.

They danced in silence for a few moments before Florian spoke, again in French.

"Do you think she would marry me?"

"I, uh…I'm not sure," she replied, startled. "Are you sure you would want to? You haven't known each other that long."

He smiled.

"Let me tell you a story. When I was a little boy, we always had music in the house. I learned first to play a whistle, then the trumpet. I was not bad at all – in fact, I started playing in the village band when I just ten years old. Then one day, my uncle came to visit. He brought his violin and of course, I had to try it.

"Agnes, the moment I tucked it under my chin and drew the bow across the strings, I _knew._ The next day, I went to the band director and told him I would no longer be playing the trumpet. Oh, how he chastised me! And I did agree to stay with it until the winter concert, but after that, no more. I would devote myself to the violin and nothing else. I was made for it, and it for me."

Agnes nodded.

"I had that same feeling of intuition when I kissed Josie for the first time. She ran away, but I _knew_. And I believed in that feeling strongly enough to wait until she knew it too."

He shrugged.

"So when people tell me I cannot know my own mind, and that such a relationship could never work, and I'm too young and she's too old, and all the other well-meaning things people say when they try to convince you of their opinions, I say nothing. What would be the use? I _know_. And nothing anyone will ever say could change that. When I am fifty and she is sixty-three, I will be as proud to have her on my arm as I am tonight."

Agnes regarded him thoughtfully.

"I think that's possibly the loveliest thing I have ever heard. You should tell her exactly what you just told me." She smiled suddenly. "And I will be happy to stand up as her maid of honor!"

Florian chuckled.

"I will make sure to let her know!"

It took at least an hour before he could claim Josie as his own again. Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Grove, Mr. Thackeray, Mr. Selfridge – even young Gordon Selfridge – all insisted on at least one dance. Florian found himself in demand as well, partnering with what seemed like every girl who worked in Accessories or Beauty. He had not realized there were quite so many of them. Most were content to dance without talking, but a couple tried to flirt, or to pump him about Miss Mardle. With them, he pretended not to understand. Sometimes, being a foreigner had its uses, he thought.

Spotting an opening during a break in the music, he made his way to Josie's side, but not in time to beat Mr. Edwards. He found himself face to face with Miss Hawkins just as the older man saw him.

"M. Dupont, I simply must have a dance with Miss Mardle, if she'll permit me?" Josie nodded her assent. "I know you'll take good care of Kitty for the duration."

"May I have this dance?" Florian said, cornered.

"Delighted, I'm sure," she said.

They hadn't danced more than eight measures before she began her sally.

"You and Miss Mardle seem quite close."

"She has been very kind to me."

"I'm sure you're very grateful to her. Not every woman would risk her reputation by opening her … _home_ to an unmarried foreigner."

"The house has plenty of space for us all. I stay in my room, the ladies stay in theirs."

"Oh, I'm sure there's nothing_ improper_ going on," she said, her tone implying the exact opposite. "I suppose foreigners simply have different ideas of what constitutes proper behavior."

"What exactly are you implying?" he asked.

"I saw how you held her hand, how you look at her, how you practically made love to her on the dance floor!" Kitty hissed. "It's scandalous!"

"I hold Miss Mardle in the highest esteem," he said coldly. "She is the most generous, caring and kind woman I have ever met. And I do believe you, Miss Hawkins, are jealous because you know in your heart you'll never be half the woman she is."

"I should hope I'm better than a dried-out old spinster!"

They stopped dancing, instead glaring at one another.

"I have developed a dreadful headache," she said. "I must sit down."

He backed away from her.

"I am sorry you are not well, Miss Hawkins," he said formally. "Thank you for the dance. It was most educational."

Sighting a waiter with tray of champagne, he strode over to grab a glass, hoping to drown his fury.

"Put you through the wringer, did she?" Victor said.

Really, Florian thought, the man had the most uncanny knack for appearing out of thin air. He smiled grimly.

"I do feel like an old shirt on wash day."

"Buck up," Victor said cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder. "You've been blooded by Miss Hawkins. You're one of us now."

Florian laughed.

"It is a sacred ritual?"

"No one escapes it," his friend said.

"Thank you, Victor," he said, swallowing the rest of his champagne. "You always know the right thing to say."

"You were looking like bloody murder there. What did she say to you?"

"Nothing I did not expect."

"It's not a typical romance," Victor said, plunging in. "People don't like the unexpected at times like this. It stirs them up, makes them afraid."

"We can't hide forever."

"And you shouldn't. You just have to expect some people won't like it."

"As long as she loves me, it does not matter what others think."

"That's the spirit!" He gave Florian's shoulder a friendly punch. "You're a good person, and so is she. It'll come right."

It took another quarter-hour to find Josie and step in before someone else came up to beg a dance from her. Her cheeks were pink with the exercise, and her deep-set eyes sparkled.

"You are happy."

"Very. I'm having a most delightful night. Everyone is so kind and full of compliments! I feel like a different woman to the one that works at the counter."

"You deserve every compliment you have received, and many more! Shall I praise you too?"

"A generous offer, but I would prefer just to dance right now," she said, looking flirtatiously up at him through her half-veil. "Although I have enjoyed conversing with my colleagues, not one of them dances half as well as you do! And of course, none can match your good looks either."

"You tease me."

"Nonsense! It's all true."

They danced the next two songs together in companionable silence, enjoying the music and the proximity to one another.

"May I ask you something?" Florian said at last.

"You may ask me anything."

"Would you ever consider marrying?"

She stumbled, but recovered almost immediately.

"I might. If the right man asked."

They danced for a few more moments, Josie smiling, Florian thinking hard.

"If I asked?"

"You'll have to ask me and find out, won't you? Assuming you want to, of course."

"Josie, I…"

Around them, the crowd pushed in, unsettling their rhythm. Josie realized with a start that the music had stopped. It must be nearly midnight. She laid one hand on Florian's forearm.

"Just a moment, my dear…"

"But Josie, I…"

Nearby, Mr. Selfridge stood on the stage with the orchestra, leading the crowd in a countdown.

"Nine! Eight!"

"Please, Josie…"

"What?"

"Five! Four!"

"I must…"

"Two! One!"

"Happy New Year!" Mr. Selfridge shouted. Cheers went up as people applauded. Josie couldn't hear anything but the sound of the crowd.

"To 1915!" Mr. Selfridge cried, raising a glass of champagne. "To the best staff in London!"

Josie felt Florian's hand clasp hers. She turned to him, eyes amused, acknowledging the futility of trying to say anything at the moment. He tried again, but she still could not make out the words. On impulse, she reached up and brought his head down to her level.

"Yes," she said in his ear. "Yes."

She felt as carefree as a young girl as he embraced her not fifteen feet from where Mr. Grove and Mr. Selfridge stood watching. Mr. Grove frowned even as Mr. Selfridge grinned, caught her eye and winked.

Josie laughed and kissed her fiancé.


End file.
